Mask
by Neverwinternightsgirl777
Summary: Its the 4th of July and America reflects on his scars and why hasn't anyone said happy birthday to him yet? First Hetalia fic.Happy Birthday America! Enjoy


It was the 4th of July, the day his life had changed forever.

The day he had declared himself free of his elder brother, who'd tormented his people with taxes, or killed them. It was also the day England –or, Arthur Kirkland, as the country saw as his name- would drink himself silly over his loss. America, or, Alfred Jones, wasn't stupid, he knew Arthur did that crap every year since then, but he chose to ignore it.

Truly, Alfred didn't want to be alone on his two hundredth and thirty-fifth birthday, but he felt alone right now. He stared at the wall above his kitchen table then he sighed heavily. No one was picking up their phones, not even his Cold War rival, Ivan, would answer his phone calls. Alfred bit his lip and laid his hamburger back on the silver plate, losing his appetite.

Matthew normally would come over with a pretty nice cake, decorated with red and blue and 'happy birthday Alfred' written in white. It always was vanilla and tasted delicious. But Matt still hadn't come yet and Alfred was getting impatient, Matthew was never late for anything, even though he always carried that weird bear around.

Alfred sighed and cringed as the scar on his chest began to ache. The scar on his chest was from when Pearl Harbor was attacked by the Japanese forces. With a frown, he rubbed his chest then sighed. Standing up, he headed for the window. Outside, he could hear the parade marching past the houses and people cheering as the parade marched by. He could smell the grills cooking and hear the firecrackers being pulled by the children. Alfred couldn't help but smile. Everything seemed peaceful now, especially since the news of his enemy's death back in May, but still the countries were on high alert just in case of another attack. Still, Alfred was worried.

The wound along his shoulders from the economy falling into ruins was becoming infected and extending. He was at a loss of what he was supposed to do now, all he knew was his country was falling apart, piece by piece. Crime rate was way up, his status of education was also terrible, and people were out of control.

The other countries had an idea of all this madness going on in the country, but Alfred hid all the agony that he felt away from all of them. And he masked it well with all his smiles and sudden outbursts of talk of being a hero. It definitely fooled everyone into thinking he was perfectly fine, but he truly wasn't.

He couldn't trust to share his feelings with anyone.

And no one was here to celebrate his birthday with him.

He slammed his fist into the wall suddenly and broke right through it. Alfred trembled with pain as the blood began to trickle down between his fingers and tears began to flow down his face. God, he felt pathetic now.

Alfred wiped his eyes with a shaky sigh and removed his hand out of the wall staring at the blood oozing out of his knuckles. He adjusted his glasses then the phone rang. He looked to his pocket and pulled out his cell phone; it was Ivan.

'Huh? Ivan's calling me?' he thought with interest. Alfred answered. "Hello?"

"Hello Little America, how are you?" Ivan asked, his voice sounded quite happy. 'What are you so happy about?'

"Uhh, fine I guess. Since when did you seem to care about me anyways?" Alfred tried to mask himself. He put on his fake grin.

"Well, it's your birthday after all, da? Thought I'd call you to see if you're having a great birthday."

Alfred chuckled. "Oh, you didn't have to Ivan! You know me! I just got done with my special birthday hamburger and I'm waiting for Matt to bring me birthday cake!"

"Da? That's good I hope." There was an immediate silence after his response. Alfred raised his eyebrow. Where did he go?

After a few minutes, Ivan finally said something. "Sorry about that. I'm currently with Canada as we speak; he said you should come here. You see, he's having trouble with his oven."

Alfred sighed shakily. "Alright, I'll be over soon."

'Well, that's not really like Matty. He's pretty good at fixing his own things.' Alfred thought with a sigh. But thankfully, Canada's house was only a few minutes away by bus. Alfred caught the next bus to Canada's home.

Within twenty minutes, Alfred arrived at the front porch of his younger twin. Alfred looked around as he heard more parades and firecrackers going off, he sighed and knocked on the door.

At first, there was no answer, so he knocked again and the door slid open slightly. Alfred blinked in surprise then pushed the door open farther until he could fully step in. The room was dark.

"Uhh, Canada bro? Where are you?" there was still power on the other side of the street so...

"Hello?" Alfred called out again.

Suddenly, the lights flickered on which blinded Alfred following the shouts of, "Happy Birthday America!"

Alfred blinked in shock at the small group before him; England, who still looked sober, France, who flashed a smile; Canada, who for once wasn't holding that creepy bear; Russia, who just smiled. Behind them was Japan, who smiled softly at Alfred; Northern Italy, who clung to a blushing Germany. However, there was no sign of the eldest nation -China- but he suspected he was in the kitchen cooking.  
>Everyone seemed happy to see him. America grinned shyly at his fellow nations. "Oh-oh, guys you didn't need to..."<p>

"Come now America! Don't act so modestly." England appeared at his former brother's side and set his hand on his shoulder. "It's your birthday you bloody fool."

"Brother!" Alfred turned to see his little brother grinning at him. Alfred grinned back and gave the Canadian thumbs up.

The party took off without a hitch. Alfred was able to talk with everyone, including China who had been in the kitchen cooking up his favorite recipes for Chinese food. Apparently the mastermind behind this party was Canada; who had noticed lately that his elder brother wasn't himself. After an hour or so, America ended up in the corner watching all of his friends laugh and enjoy themselves.

Suddenly, America cringed feeling the wound on his shoulder start to burn and widen. He frowned, the recession was taking its toll on him, he bit his lip to hide the sign of pain.

"You look like you're in a lot of pain moni mi." America looked up to see France who sat next to him. France was holding an empty wine glass, but he wasn't drunk yet.

"Me-Me? Pain? No way!" America declared flashing a fake smile at the Frenchmen.

France frowned slightly. "You're mask is fading petite Amerique. It's been going for some time now."

America blinked in shock. "How'd you know?"

"I've seen it over the years. Everyone has, to an extent you see." France clarified with a sigh. "Everyone has their scars petite Amerique, even I do. There's no need to hide it."

America sighed softly. "Thanks France."

"No problem, veveux do bonbour Amerique." France stood up and walked away. America muttered a thanks as the Frenchman walked away.

With a sigh, America shook his head and finished his glass of red wine. No, France was right, they all had scars.

England had one from the Revolutionary war, Japan from Hiroshima and Nagasaki, Germany was split in two, and Russia from his royal family killed. America sighed softly then got up then he cringed in pain. He grabbed his shoulder and frowned. What the hell was going on?

"America? Are you alright?" England cried watching as America fell to his knees.

"Ye-Yeah..." America stuttered.

"You don't look to good." Russia added kneeling down beside the younger nation.

"My shoulder...it hurts from the..." America froze and the others slowly understood now.

All was silent now, and then the other nations kneeled down in front of America, placing their hands on his shoulders. America blinked in shock and then smiled softly. Truly, this probably was the best birthday America ever had because his friends were there for him.


End file.
